My name is Raven
by Chaotic.Coffee.Bean
Summary: *ONE SHOT* Raven detests nicknames. Now we know why.


**Author's Note**

It's one of those days where I'm at work and I want to do anything but work. This idea has been brewing in my head for a while now and today seemed like the perfect day to type it up.

Please review to let me know what you think of it, Enjoy!

Chaotic Coffee Bean

Disclaimer: Sadly, I only own Teen Titans in my imagination.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Fat tears gathered and fell down the child's fat pale cheeks as she pushed a plump pillow against her lips in an effort to smother the sounds of her cries.

She knew this wasn't allowed. Crying wasn't allowed. Feeling wasn't allowed. This is what the monks of Azarath instilled in her for as long as she could recall.

Feeling was a basic human characteristic, and she was not human. That's what they all said anyway.

Everywhere she went she could feel their whispers about her; the sounds pierced her mind, soul, and body like bullets meant to wound or kill.

Demon.

Abomination.

Monster.

Witch.

That's what they called her behind her back and sometimes right to her face if they were feeling particularly nasty towards her. Even Azar, the leader of Azarath, her mentor and teacher, would simply address her as "child" or "student".

It's not like she didn't have a name. It's just that no one ever used it. Everyone preferred to call her out for what she was, further dehumanizing her.

She gripped the pillow with her chubby fingers tighter as another wave of tears spilled from her eyes. Below her, the firm mattress she slept on started to quiver and shake while her dark power was released in tune with her emotions as she recalled the earlier events that led her to cry in her dark lonely room.

It had happened earlier that morning. The child was allowed a walk in the gardens before her lessons; it was the only time she was allowed outside of her room other than her weekly trips to the library. She detested her lessons. Learning to control emotions was torturous and it went against her very nature. She could not experience even the smallest inkling of happiness or sadness or frustration without making her room walls shake under the strain of her powers. Despite this, the girl did not try very hard to control her emotions on her morning walks. These walks were where she was happiest. It would be a shame to not get to enjoy a few moments of being free to feel, even if it was just for a few seconds. Her short and strangely colored hair danced in the cold morning breeze and the winter chill created small goosebumps on her pale skin. She loved to feel the crunch of the crisp white snow under her purple boots as she walked. Her soft purple cloak kept her warm and cozy and she looked out into the garden in awe of it's spectacular beauty. The flower hedges towered over her with their once dark and waxy leaves covered in thick white snow. The flowers themselves were white, mirroring the color of their icy world. Enthralled by their beauty, the girl reached over to touch the soft petals with a delicate hand.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, she could feel it. It bubbled up and spread to the rest of her limbs like a thick blanket warming her from the inside out. She almost giggled out loud at the feeling of the forbidden emotion: happiness.

Almost immediately, her black power crackled and buzzed at her fingertips, anxious to be released. It covered the white flower she touched- the two colors violently clashing- and like a black flame, it blistered the beautiful petals before her very eyes.

Shocked at the sight of the destruction she was causing, the girl tried to stop feeling anything at all, but her sadness for what she had destroyed seeped out of her heart, causing her dark magic to engulf another flower, and another, until the entire bush was engulfed in her caustic power causing the flowers to shrivel and die.

With a shaky breath and trembling hands, she closed her eyes and forced herself to remain in control.

Azarath Metrion Zinthos

Azarath Metrion Zinthos

Azarath Metrion Zinthos

The crunch of the flowers and buzzing of her powers told her that her calming methods were not working: she was not in control and her powers kept raging, shriveling the flower bush into a strangled mess.

Come on! Concentrate!

Don't lose control.

Azarath Metrion Zinthos

Don't lose control.

Azarath Metrion Zinthos

Suddenly, the girl heard several loud gasps behind her, breaking her concentration and causing a burst of power to shake the ground slightly. She whipped around in horror knowing exactly who had made the gasps. Hundreds of eyes from passerby stared at the girl in horror and disgust. That's when the whispers started.

Abomination.

Witch.

Demon.

Each word hit her like a slap to the face. The child was used to these whispered insults, but it was the feelings they exerted that hurt the most. The hatred they felt for her hit her like a wave, engulfing her heart, and choking the air out of her lungs. Much worse was the feelings of disgust they emitted at the sight of her. Disgust was a creeping emotion that sent needles to her brain, tied her stomach in knots, and clouded her mind stripping her of the small amount of happiness she allowed herself to feel in her walks.

She knew why they felt this was towards her, of course. She wasn't _pure_ human. She was tainted with the blood of her father Trigon. She was a cursed creature with uncontrollable and dangerous powers. She was everything that the people of Azarath were not.

Azar had told her the story of how Azarath came to be.

Long ago, before Azarath existed, a group of people from the planet Earth decided they wanted nothing to do with the crushing violence of their world. Taking vows of pacifism, love, and peace, they escaped to a new dimension of their own creation with Azar as their leader. For many years, Azarath was their sanctuary. A haven without hatred, violence, or destruction. That is until _she_ came.

 _*flashback*_

 _"Why do they hate me so much Azar?" asked the girl with a quivering voice._

 _Azar looked down sadly at the child. So young and already she carried so much pain in her large and strangely colored eyes._

 _"They do not hate you child. They hate the circumstance of your birth. You represent everything the people of Azarath wanted to leave behind on Earth. You were born from an act of violence. Your future shows only destruction."_

 _"I don't understand. I was born here. I am Azarathian too. I'm just like you!" The child whispered aloud in pain causing the large stone walls of her room to groan and crack under the strain of her power._

 _Azar placed her slender hand under the girl's chin and lifted her crying face to look into her eyes._

 _"It is true. You were born in Azarath. But you are nothing like us. I am truly sorry child. One day you will understand."_

 _The child was too young to understand. Too young to know what she was and what she was destined to do. Azar loved this child as her own, she truly did. Azar had allowed the girl into her world and tried to instill as much good as she possibly could into her, and yet, Azar knew nothing could ever stop what the child was destined to become._

*End Flashback*

There was no way to hide what she had done. The bush was slowly turning to ash in the hands of her power. With wide eyes, she pleaded with the crowd to understand.

"Please, I didn't mean to!" she cried to deaf ears.

"Look at _it!_ "

" _She_ destroyed the flowers."

The words tumbled out of their mouths like bullets and shattered her soul. She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight. She wanted to _feel_ , but she knew that allowing herself to feel would only release her destructive powers and prove to the others that they were right. She was an abomination.

But the whispers kept coming. The feelings they projected were still attacking her senses, making controlling her emotions that much harder. She couldn't take it for much longer.

"There _it_ is!"

"It's that _abomination."_

"That _thing._ "

"It's the _demon_ child."

"I HAVE A NAME!" she shouted with tears in her eyes.

The power-engulfed bush exploded behind her. The sudden burst of power sprayed snow, mud, and the ashy remains of what was once a beautiful flower bush all around, shocking the crowd into silence. The only sounds now were the quiet sobs of the powerful little girl and the crunching of the snow under her boots as she ran back to her room.

Six years later

At thirteen years old, the girl was no longer the frightened child of Azarath who could not control her powers. She knew what she was. She knew what she was destined to do. As soon as she had some semblance of control over her powers, the girl decided it was time to leave the only home she had ever known. Her destructive and violent powers could not fit into the pacifist society that was Azarath. She hoped that she could find a place here on Earth that could accept her regardless of what she was.

But even on Earth the whispers still followed. The feelings of those around her still choked her.

"What is _that?"_

"What is she _wearing?"_

"Look at her skin."

"Is she even human?"

Even on Earth, a place where violence and hatred roamed free, she would have a hard time fitting in.

It happened one night. The day her world changed forever. She awoke with a start to the sound of a large crash. She had been sleeping in her usual alley on top of the softest cardboard boxes she could find under a tent made of her cloak.

The girl quickly got out of her makeshift home and secured her cloak in place. The people on the street were running away, their emotions sending waves of horror and panic down the girl's path. Something was terribly wrong. The girl quickly ran the opposite way of the terrified crowds.

She knew what she was. She knew what she was destined to do to the people of this dimension. Even if they wouldn't accept her, the least she could do was clear her conscience and use her remaining time on this planet to use her dark powers for good.

The sound of a someone's mighty warrior roars signaled that she was heading in the right direction. She felt it before she saw it. The feelings of fear and survival emitted from a strange looking female who was attempting to break loose of her restraints by smashing her arms on a nearby building, causing the concrete to shake and crack under the blows. The cloaked girl was immediately reminded of her own power and the destruction she herself was capable of causing. This strange alien girl was acting like a cornered animal, fearing for her life and safety. The cloaked girl wanted to help. She understood this strange alien's pain and fear having felt it every day of her young life.

Before she could act, a young masked boy dressed in brightly colored clothing appeared and immediately attempted to subdue the alien. It only took a few seconds of him fighting the alien for her to realize that this alien was so much stronger and powerful than she let on.

The Azarathian girl stood in the alley, watching the two others fight, hesitating whether she should join in on the action. Before she could make a decision, an odd green boy jumped in and joined the action. A larger teen dressed fully in a baggy, gray sweatsuit soon followed.

The effect was instantaneous; the strange alien, feeling cornered and frightened, began to emit waves of pure terror. Something was not right. A villain would not be this terrified. This alien was in trouble and the fighting was not helping. The alien's emotions were almost too much to handle for the dark girl's powers. Feeling her dark magic spill out of her, she decided it was time to act.

Hesitantly, the cloaked girl appeared out of the shadows and headed straight to the brightly colored boy with the skin tight mask.

"Maybe fighting isn't the answer."

The cloaked girl expected a fight, but surprisingly, he seemed to agree with her.

"Stand down" he called to the others in a voice only an experienced leader could produce.

With great caution, the masked boy walked over to the alien who was currently taken over by exhaustion from the exertion of her fear. Slowly, the boy pulled out a tool from his belt and unlocked the alien's arms restraints. The alien girl's relief to being freed was tangible. She took one last look at the others and flew away.

"Are you going after the alien?" The cloaked girl asked the masked boy.

He frowned and sighed tiredly, "Yes. I have to."

"I can help! Squeaked the green child excitedly.

The larger boy nodded with an air of determination, "Me too."

The masked boy nodded, "I would appreciate the help."

"So I'm Beast Boy! Who are you?" squeaked the small green boy excitedly.

"Cyborg," the larger boy said with a smile.

"Robin."

The three boys turned to the darkly hooded girl expectantly.

A wave of both panic and excitement threatened to take over her senses. She had never been looked at like this before. With acceptance.

She took a step back. Was this it? Was this the moment she would find what she was looking for? It sounded too good to be true.

"Umm, maybe I should go."

The large boy named Cyborg seemed to sense her hesitation and pulled down his hood revealing a strange clash of human and robotic parts. It was a jarring sight and the three others visibly gasped.

"He's dressed like a fire hydrant, he's green, and I'm half robot. You fit in just fine."

He took a hesitant step forward and put his large robot hand on the cloaked girl's small shoulder. The contact was electric, she couldn't remember the last time she had contact with another living being. It was almost enough to bring tears to her eyes. With her powers, she reached to sense the others' emotions. It was a combination of excitement, happiness, and genuine curiosity. Not even a drop of the hatred and fear she was so used to being directed at her.

"So," began the small green boy with a smile so bright it could light up even the darkest corners of her mind, "What's your name?"

The dark cloaked girl felt her brain go dizzy from trying to hold back the excruciating happiness that threatened to seep out of her. She felt her dark power start to crackle and buzz on her fingertips from the intense emotion. Never again would she be called the _demon,_ the _abomination,_ the _witch._

"My name is Raven."

 **A/N**

So I've been reading Teen Titans fanfiction for many many years and a common theme throughout is that Raven does not like to be called by a nickname (namely Rae). I honestly can't remember this ever being a thing in the show (is it in there?) and I haven't read enough of the comics to know if it's a thing in there ( if you do happen to know where this started let me know!) It got me thinking about why Raven wouldn't like to be called by nicknames thus this story was born!

Let me know if you liked it!


End file.
